


I Wanna See You Lookin Up

by Thoughts Like A Minefield (Incog_Ninja)



Category: Real Person Fiction, Rihanna (Musician), Supernatural
Genre: Begging, Begging Dean Winchester, Dean on his knees, Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Naked Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:25:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Thoughts%20Like%20A%20Minefield
Summary: PROMPT: Congrats on 500 followers MJ!!! Can you do a fic with Dean and begging? (Either he can be begging or the reader can, up to you) make it as smutty as you want 😜





	I Wanna See You Lookin Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladywinchester1967](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinchester1967/gifts).



You look so dumb right now  
Standin’ outside my house  
Tryin’ to apologize

~~~~~~~

“Whatchu even doin’ here?” she asks, looking down from her bedroom balcony. She’s ready for bed – just out of a bubble bath, glass of wine, black tank top and boy shorts, pink silk robe, feathered slipper pumps. It’s self-care, pampering, whatever they call it.

“It’s not what you think, Robyn,” Dean says with that impatient condescension like _he’s_ over it.

“And you know what I think,” she says, glaring down at him before turning, the hem of her robe, sweeping the wood boards at her feet. She walks inside and shuts the door behind her.

Robyn drains the remainder of the wine from her glass then refills it. Her doorbell rings, and she rolls her eyes. “The fuck did I say?” she mutters to herself then unhurriedly descends the stairs to her front door. When she pulls it open, he actually looks contrite.

“Robyn,” he sighs, shifting his weight, running his hand through his mess of hair. She takes in the man in front of her.

Dean’s always rough around the edges. He talks with his mouth full, wears nothing but Carhartt and flannel, logger boots, and not for fashion. He’s perpetually wet, as Robyn and her family used to say about their grandpop – always drunk or hungover or both. But standing at her door under the harsh porch light, Dean’s features are drawn, his eyes dark and shot with blood, brooding.

“Please?” he says, chin dipped to his chest, lashes slowing blinking closed and open.

Robyn can’t deny that look. She draws a deep breath before moving out of the way to let him inside. “Five minutes,” she says. “Then you’re out on your ass.”

“It was a _case_ , Robyn,” he says, turning to face her, his eyes tired and pleading. “I wasn’t gonna _really_ meet up with her later.”

Robyn sets her glass aside and crosses her arms over her chest before circling his slouched, defeated form. She ponders what to do, chews the inside of her cheek as she looks him up and down. She’s never seen him so penitent.

“You are _such_ a pain in my ass, you know that,” she says, coming to a stop in front of him, facing him.

Dean nods. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should’ve told you-”

Robyn holds up her hand to silence him. “Save it,” she says. “Upstairs, clothes off, on your knees.”

Dean’s face relaxes, lights up, he stands up straighter than she’s seen him stand since last Wednesday when he told that skinny, white waitress all the dirty, little things he was going to do to her after she was off work.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean breathes, and before his boots even hit the stairs, he’s working his jacket from his shoulders.

~~~~~~~

He’s on his knees, just as she ordered him to be, gloriously naked in the candlelight, scars and curves and valleys shaded and lit. Dean’s a product of war and pain, bravery and perseverance. He’s light and dark and love and fury. His body shows all of that and more.

He knows where she likes him, too. He’s settled on his heels, back against the foot of her bed.

She drops her robe and meanders closer. His hungry eyes watch her every move, and his cock grows, curves into his belly.

“Tell Mama what a bad boy you were,” she says, stopping in front of him, kicking his knees apart with her feathered heels, bulging and purpling his cock to her pleasure.

“I was a bad boy,” he says through his teeth, hard green drilling into the silver of her hazel eyes, his jaw clenching.

Dean is what is called a bossy bottom. He likes being told what to do, he’s turned on by being handled roughly, but there’s a line with Dean, too. And Robyn likes to cross it – repeatedly.

“Hmm,” she says, setting a foot on either side of his hips, sliding her hand between her legs and cupping herself over her shorts. Her cunt is so close to his face, she can feel his breath on the bare skin of her inner thighs.

“Bad boys don’t get good pussy, do they?” she says, and Dean groans, reaching to grip himself in a fist.

“Ah-ah-ah,” she says, kicking his wrist away. “Hands up here. Pull my drawers off so you can see how wet I am and what you’re missin’.”

Dean glares up at her but obeys. As he pulls the shorts over her full hips his eyes close, and he inhales deeply. He lets her shorts drop around her ankles.

“You can sniff ‘em if you want,” she says, stepping out of them with a chuckle.

The second they’re free, Dean snatches them up and buries his nose and mouth in the fabric with a moan.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers. “ _Please_.” He looks up at her, panting.

Robyn resumes her position over him and slides two fingers through her slick.

“Boy, I don’t think you deserve this pussy,” she says, pushing her fingers inside herself, hearing the squelch, watching him focus on her motions and lick his lips. When he looks up at her, his eyes are full and desperate. “Do you?”

Dean shakes his head, swallows thick and deep, runs his fingertips from her ankles to her hips.

“No, but I can earn it,” he says, breathing heavy, eyes blowing a black hole into its verdant circle. “Let me. _Please_.”

He settles his hands on her bare hips and she moves in, lifts one toe to rest on the foot the bed. She grips the soft mess that is his disaster of a hairdo then guides his face between her open thighs.

She drops her head back when he licks a breathy stripe up her slit. “Let’s see what you can do for Mama tonight.”

Dean’s fingers tighten, dig into her smooth skin and he buries his nose and lips and tongue and chin in deep. He’s going to show her _exactly_ how sorry he is.


End file.
